


The Wonderful Wizard of Smeg

by HungLikeARainbro



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Complete, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 09:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7678657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HungLikeARainbro/pseuds/HungLikeARainbro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas drabble - Lister has an oddly familiar dream</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wonderful Wizard of Smeg

**Author's Note:**

> I am moving my old fanfiction from FF.net to AO3 and will be creating new work soon. This was originally uploaded 14/12/2008.

It could have been the eighteen pints of beer Lister drank. Perhaps it had been the egg and chilli-chutney sandwich bonanza he had eaten at three o’clock in the morning. It may even have been that bottle of clear liquid that was possibly vodka – but was more likely to have contained methylated spirit – that he swilled down as if it were going out of fashion.

In any case, it was clear that Lister was drunker than Withnail and I put together when he hijacked the Starbug and went comet-hunting.

***

“Comet-hunting?” Rimmer scoffed.

“That’s what his note says,” said Kryten, peering at the greasy slip of paper.

“How can you even read that?” Rimmer snapped. “It looks like a Lowry sketch for insects.”

Just then, Holly’s face appeared on screen with some news.

“Emergency. There’s an emergency going on.”

“What is it?”

“I found Starbug. All smooshed up on a planetoid.”

Rimmer sighed. “Oh, buggeration…”

***

Lister stood groggily holding his head and surveyed the damaged wreck. He didn’t remember losing control at all. He only looked away for a second, he would swear on his guitar’s life. Nonetheless, he seemed to have crashed and at some point, he had been thrown from the ship. How else could he have gotten outside?

“Then again,” he murmured to himself, “how come I don’t have even one scratch on me?” Lister looked around at the planetoid. It was… garish, to put it politely. Huge brightly-coloured plants and flowers grew everywhere, towering over tiny little houses. In the middle of this tiny estate was a yellow brick road.

Lister grew suspicious when he spotted a pair of feet under the left rear engine of Starbug.

“I don’t think I’m in the Milky Way anymore.”

Lister was about to knock on one of the tiny house’s doors, when he noticed a small black cat sat nearby. “Frankie? Smegging hell, I thought you died a few million years ago.”

The cat yawned, disinterested in him.

“Are you a witch?”

Lister spun around, and nearly fell over. There was Kochanski, resplendent in a gossamer pink gown and fairy wings. “Are you a witch?” she repeated.

“I doubt it.”

“Oh dear,” she sighed.

“Wait,” said Lister, thinking carefully. This was clearly a dream. Ergo, all he had to do was go along with everything. Once he reached the end of the movie he would wake up. It was all so simple.

“Yeah, er… I’m Dave. From Kansas. I want to get home. Where’s the Wizard, ruby slippers, etc.?”

“Patience, Davathy.”

“Dave.”

“Davathy,” she continued, ignoring him, “We are thankful that you have killed the Wicked Witch of the East. The Munchkins would like to thank you in song.” Lister stared in horror as a hundred or so tiny Rimmers marched around singing gaily. “Th-thanks,” he gibbered. “But I just want to get to the Wizard of Oz.”

“Wizard of Smeg.”

“…’Course it is.”

“Very well,” said Kochanski, holding up a pair of ruby slippers. “Hmmm…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, we were expecting a little girl, you see. I don’t think these will fit you.”

“Got anything else?”

“Silver biker boots.”

“Wicked.” Lister slipped on the boots and admired the flaming skull motif on the buckles.

“Davathy, to get to the Emerald City all you have to do is follow the Yellow Brick Road.” Lister nodded at the fairy and stomped off down the path. “Hold it!” she shrieked.

“What?”

“Start at the beginning!” she huffed, pointing at the curled path spiralling outwards.

“You’ve got to be smegging kidding.”

“Move it, or I’ll shove my wand up you where the sun doesn’t shine.”

Lister grinned. He loved it when girls talked dirty. He tiptoed around the spiral, trying not to hit any of the Munchkins with the steel toes of his boots, although he secretly really wanted to, and he was soon on his way again, with Frankie the cat following behind.

***

Lister plodded along the path for a short while, eventually reaching a cornfield. And then, as he had expected, he found himself at a crossroads. He looked around carefully, but there were no signposts and the only signs of life were a few crows and an ugly scarecrow hanging from a wooden cross.

“Frankie, is it just me or did that scarecrow move?”

Frankenstein licked her lower back casually. The scarecrow seemed to move again.

“I swear it just-”

“I have an itch on my nose, you stupid pillock!” the Scarecrow suddenly shrieked. “And as you can see, I’m in no position to scratch it.”

“Oh, I see,” said Lister, walking off.

“Wait!”

Lister turned back.

“Get me down.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Goit.”

Lister nodded to himself. As he had thought – the scarecrow was Rimmer.

“Are you going to get me down, or are you just going to leave me here like some dilapidated rag doll version of Jesus?”

Lister hauled himself over the fence and set to work untying the complaining Scarecrow. The last knot was soon loose and the Scarecrow jumped down, shook its limbs out and star-jumped a few times. “Ah, that’s better.

“So,” the Scarecrow finally addressed Lister, “what brings you here?”

“I’m going to go see the Wizard of Smeg. Lemme guess, you want to go see the Wizard too so that you can get a brain?”

“Why does everyone keep telling me I need a brain?”

“You kidding? I could make a list of things you need right off the top of my head.”

The Scarecrow frowned but followed Lister on his journey anyway. I suppose he has to, Lister thought. It’s in the script.

***

They had walked quite some way before Lister grew hungry. “I never get hungry,” the Scarecrow said, almost boastful. “No stomach, you see.”

“More like no guts…” Lister mumbled. “Aren’t there any curry houses in Smeg?”

“There are some apple trees over there.”

“FRUIT?” Lister exclaimed, aghast. He expected him to eat healthy nutritious fruit? And then he remembered the movie. The trees would attack him if he tried to pick any apples from them. And also…

“There should be… somewhere… yes! Kryten, mate!” cheered Lister as he spotted beside a tree an unmistakable, if shiny and grey, version of Kryten, rusted in place. He found an oil-can and soon Kryten the tin-man was testing out his newly oiled joints. “Oh thank you so much, sir. I’ve been rusted there for so long!”

“Yeah yeah, I want this dream to end. Skip the song about your heart and let’s go.”

“Heart? What heart?”

“You want a heart, right?”

The |Tin-man chuckled lightly. “One of those fickle contraptions? No thank you.”

“Oh, well, I guess Scarecrow could do with a heart too.”

“Oh shut up. And tell your cat that my leg is NOT a scratching post.”

“Good girl, Frankie,” said Lister, patting the little cat on the head. The Scarecrow complained non-stop as the three of them ventured onward with Frankie trotting behind.

***

No sooner had they left behind the Tin-man’s house when they found the woods becoming darker and denser. The Scarecrow became fearful.

Well, more so.

“So what kinds of creatures live in this forest? Nothing that eat straw, right?”

“No, mostly flesh-eating mammals that will devour Mr. Davathy; like lions and tigers and bears.”

“But you’re sure I’ll be okay?” the Scarecrow inquired. The Tin-man nodded, but then stopped suddenly. “Did you hear that sir? It sounded like a… a growl.”

“A growl?” Lister jumped as a low growl emitted from the trees just as he spoke. He peered at them, trying to make out the shape that flitted between them. “What am I doing?” he muttered to himself. “It’s obvious who it is.”

“Attention all lionesses. I am looking very sexy right now!” a voice called out from the bushes, amplified by what Lister could only guess was a megaphone.

“Hey lion!” Lister called back. A head popped up from behind the bushes. It was the Cat all right, even if his hair was a little bit bouffant. “What do you guys want? I’m not sharing any food or ladies with you.”

“Well I guess you don’t need any courage. Scarecrow can have it all.”

“Alright that does it, I’m not going another inch with you lot.”

“Why?”

“You keep insulting me.”

“What’s your point?” Lister grinned. Rimmer-scarecrow was a lot of fun to tease. The Scarecrow pouted and sat down on a nearby rock. “When you’re ready to apologise I’ll be here.”

“Bye then,” they all sang and walked on. The Scarecrow turned angrily and when they were far enough away not to notice, he allowed his bottom lip to wobble sadly.

***

It wasn’t long before the Scarecrow came hurtling out of the forest – the eerie sounds and rustling creatures proving too much for his overactive imagination.

“Guys? I’m just telling you that the only reason I left the forest is because some baby deer were chewing my arms. I haven’t forgiven you. Guys? Lads? Chaps? Comrades? Tomodachi?” The Scarecrow gazed all around but he could see nothing but a poppy field before him.

And a figure running towards him.

Rather fast.

It wasn’t long before the figure became discernable as the Tin-man.

“Oh, Scarecrow, thank goodness! I was so afraid! We found a tavern on the other side of the poppy field. Mr Davathy and the Lion - they went in and started pouring this odd liquid into their mouths and then they danced about singing, and then they fell asleep. It’s the work of the Wicked Witch!”

“No, it’s the work of ethanol,” the Scarecrow sighed angrily. Once the lads had some coffee in them they were ready to press on.

***

The Emerald City was not far away and they soon found themselves outside the large green gateway into the city.

Lister pulled the large green cord hanging outside the door. A gormless, bald-headed man peered out of a hatch in the door. “Alright, dudes?”

“Can we come in?”

“No, the bell’s not working. Can’t you read?”

“Read what?”

The man hung his head out of the hatch and looked all over the door. “Gordon Bennett!” he exclaimed and disappeared for a moment. Then a hand dipped out of the hatch, holding a sign.

“Bell out of order. Please knock,” they all said aloud as they read the sign. Lister shrugged and bashed the golden knocker against the green wood.

“Alright, dudes?” said the man, peering out of the hatch again. His face fell as they frowned impatiently at him. “Some people can’t take a joke, eh?” He opened the door and the group walked into the overly green hallway.

“Man, I’m glad I wore apricot. I go with everything,” the Lion beamed.

“Listen, mate,” said Lister grabbing the doorman by the arm. “Can we go see the Wizard?”

“Yeah, all right.”

“Oh, that was easy,” said Lister, certain that this scene took far longer in the film, but following the man to the Wizard’s hall anyway.

The Lion grumbled that he didn’t get to sing a song. “I don’t know why, I just really want to. Ever since I met you guys, I just feel like singing.”

“I have that same urge – it’s rather odd.”

“Please guys,” Lister groaned, “I’m begging you not to sing.”

“Don’t worry,” Scarecrow whispered to the others. “I’m sure we’ll get a final number.”

The doorman left them at the end of a dark and ominous corridor. They made their way down it cautiously.

“Can we link arms?” the Tin-man asked timidly.

“NO!”

A plethora of explosive noises echoed down the hallway and the Scarecrow backed away quickly. “You know what – I like having no brain, or heart, or courage. I can still lead a full, rich life. I can get into politics or something.”

“Come on,” Lister said and rolled his eyes. At the end of the corridor was a huge hallway with a large floating head suspended in the middle of the room. “S’up dudes?”

“Weren’t you the doorman from a minute ago?”

The head ignored Lister’s question. “I am the great and powerful Wizard of Oz.”

“He is Davathy, the fat and drunk,” the Scarecrow quipped.

“You want to go home, I take it?”

“How’d you know?”

“Oh I dunno. Being great and powerful might have something to do with it. Omniscience and all that. I can round up pi to two decimal places.”

“You mean 3.14?”

“Show-off. Anyway, to go home you have to earn the privilege. You have to go and kill the Wicked Witch of the West.”

“What?” Lister gaped.

“I know. It’s a bit of a bum deal. Sorry.”

“Why should we have to do anything you say?” said the Lion. “Why I bet you’re really just an old man hidden behind this curt- oh… you really are a giant, floating head.”

The head shook itself impatiently. “Are you going to do it or what?”

“Yeah yeah, we’ll do it. Where is she?”

“You have to go to some spooky woods to get to her castle on top of a cliff surrounded by sheer rock face.”

“Sounds simple enough,” the Scarecrow scoffed.

***

The group blindly made their way to the castle, the path to which was treacherous and winding, disappearing in parts as the eerily shaped grey trees of the pendulous woods tore through the stonework.

I can be poetic when I want.

“These woods give me the heebie-jeebies,” whined the Lion. “And that’s saying a lot when you’ve been raised in woods just as dark.”

“Don’t worry, any moment now I’ll be kidnapped by flying monkeys and you’ll be on your own.”

“Oh, well that’s comforting.”

Sure enough, they looked up just then to see a troupe of monkeys flying towards them, screeching loudly. One flew straight at Lister, gripping his arm and pulling him upwards, to no avail. A second joined him, and then a third. The other monkeys watched them struggle, clearly amused.

The monkeys eventually gave up and collapsed on the floor, breathing heavily.

Lister frowned at them. “I’m not that fat, am I?” he sadly asked the others.

“Oh, no no,” said the Scarecrow. “You’re quite svelte.”

“Honestly?”

“For a hippo.”

“Smeg off!” Lister was angry now. This dream had gone on long enough. He grabbed one of the monkeys by its vest and demanded to be taken to the Witch’s castle. The monkey agreed, not really wanting to try to pick Lister up again.

***

When they arrived at the castle, Lister was surprised to see the Witch waiting outside for them. He was less surprised to see that the Witch was female Holly.

“Well this is a turn-up for the books,” she said. “I was expecting a little girl.”

“And I was expecting Margaret Hamilton, but what can you do?”

The Witch nodded, thoughtfully. Lister suddenly felt a bit awkward. He didn’t really want to melt Holly, even in a dream. Lister had an idea. “Hey, you’re a witch right? So you’ve got magical powers. Can you get me home?”

The Witch tilted her head as if confused. “You numpty, you’ve had the power to get home all along. If you have the Ruby slippers then you can just wish to go home.”

“Ah, well. They weren’t my size. So I left them with the fairy. All I’ve got are these Silver biker boots.”

“Oooh, nice!”

“Thanks.”

“Wait a moment,” said the Tin-man. “If he had the Ruby slippers then we could have avoided all this bothersome nonsense?”

“I wouldn’t have worn down my Cuban heels walking all over the country?”

“And I would still be safe in my cornfield?”

“Mew?” said Frankie, not wanting to be left out, as she was quite sure everyone had forgotten she was even there. Lister shrugged at them sheepishly. “I forgot how the film went. Anyway, this is all just a dream. I’ll wake up any minute now.” 

“There is only one way to wake David Lister from a dream,” said the Scarecrow, grabbing his face and pulling him into a kiss.

***

Lister fell from his bunk, scraping desperately at his tongue. “Oh, Mr. Lister!” Kryten sobbed, clutching him tightly. “You’re alive!” Lister wriggled in Kryten’s grip and peeked out at his surroundings. Sure enough, he was back in his room on the Red Dwarf, safe and sound.

He freed himself from Kryten’s death hug to whisper only one thing. “I’m going to get you,” Lister hissed at Rimmer.

“What did I do?!”

They all decided to leave Lister alone to rest for a while. And Lister was thankful. For all his amusing adventures that he had in his dream, one thing was perfectly clear.

There was no smegging place like home.


End file.
